


The Warrior and the Albatross

by labonnemon



Category: Firefly, Serenity (2005)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 00:57:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labonnemon/pseuds/labonnemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Several months after the events of Miranda, Zoe Washburne has outwardly recovered. But watching River pilot Serenity has strange effects on the warrior woman. Mal, as well, has a curious reaction to his new pilot. When an old acquaintance resurfaces, Serenity and her crew are thrust back into a world to which none of them expected to return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Zoe

Zoe still had the dress she wore when they buried Wash, when they honored him and the others by candlelight on that scrubby desert cliff. She hadn't washed it. The wind had blown sand into the weave of the coarse fabric, and it still smelled of dry, spicy earth. It hung in her small closet on Serenity, on the right side, separated from her cargo pants, her cotton shirts, her leather everything. Nothing touched it.

 

She was sitting on her bunk, polishing the gun that Wash used to carry. It hadn't been fired in months, and was usually hidden in a wooden box in the small compartment at the foot of the bed. The metal had taken on an incredible shine that made the cold gray turn into something sharp, a thing that held her gaze. The wooden grips had been rounded by time and the sweat of her hands, because that's how she held it, cleaning, polishing, saving them for last. Beautifully lacquered, in the first few days after he was gone she would find herself touching her tongue to them, tasting him, the same way she would pull his shirts one by one from their assigned drawer, smelling them, inhaling anything that was left of the man she had lost.

 

After several minutes or hours, she didn't really pay attention to the time, she found herself once more with her mouth pressed to the wood. She sighed, blowing it out steadily through rounded lips, felt the sting in her eyes and willed it to vanish before shedding a single tear.

 

“Zoe, I need you on the bridge.” Mal's voice was a welcome interruption, the gruff sound of it, the expression of need as an order, not as a desire or request. She quickly, neatly stowed the gun, tucked away at the foot of the bed, and climbed the ladder to join the rest of the crew for a few more hours.

 

On the bridge, she found River sitting in the right pilot's chair. Mal was on the opposite side of the room, leaning against the display, only paying minimal attention to the girl. Such cavalier behavior from the captain with regards to Serenity's flight had been rare even with Wash at the helm, but Zoe was no longer surprised. River was a natural pilot, flying with the same innate grace with which she sang or danced. Whatever precognitive abilities she kept inside her head seemed to have linked her to the path of flight in the same way that the engine spoke to Kaylee. Zoe gazed at the girl from the doorway, seeing first her wavy, dark hair and then moving her eyes to her bare arms, _She always wears those dresses, where are her sleeves_ , her skin pale and her small hands guiding them all on their way through the black.

 

 _Her hands are so thin, she looks so frail, but damned if she doesn't fly this bird just like Wash_ , Zoe thought. It hurt, because she caught herself thinking that River might even fly it better than her man ever did.

 

“Zoe. Earth to Zoe. Well, Earth that was. I'm not sure where we're at right now. Unidentified local planet to Zoe.”

 

She blinked. “Yes, sir. What's the word?”

 

“Looks like old Badger has come out of the woodwork. Sent us a wave. Dropped a few casual bits about some places to avoid, Alliance patrols and some such.”

 

“That's an unusual kindness.”

 

“Yes, I had a thought to myself of something similar.”

 

“So. What does he want from us?”

 

“That's where he got itchy. Wouldn't really say. Mentioned something about 'shiny' and that we had better come and talk, face-to-face like. Made mention of the little albatross,” he glanced over at River and Zoe could see a faint glimmer in his eye as he looked at the girl's rapt face as she watched the slow-moving stars, holding the ship in a gentle pattern of waiting, “said he'd like to see somebody from home. Also said he'd meet someplace kindly familiar. Wants us to come to Haven.”

 

Zoe was shocked by that. Haven? What was Badger doing on that dust cloud of a planet? Despite however low his true background, Badger fancied himself a kind of vintage, classy throwback to the legendary mob bosses of Earth that was, and generally appreciated an abundant population to camouflage his crew and his antics. An outlying world did not seem like his cup of tea, as he himself would put the phrase.

 

In a classic bit of her odd timing, River piped up, “From home? You mean he still thinks I'm from his part of the 'verse?” She giggle then, a strange sound, simultaneously young and worn. She still hadn't recovered from Miranda. No matter what cocktails Simon cooked up or how many hours Kaylee spent filling her head with engine speak, the girl still had nightmares and spent more nights on the bridge than in her bed. “Oh Mal, please let me go. Simon will try to keep me here, but I would so love to see that funny little man again.”

 

Mal was already shaking his head. “No, girl. You got to keep put, I need you to be ready in case he thinks to do something stupid.” Mal looked back at Zoe. “Think you can rustle up Jayne from whatever firearm he's fondling or girlie poster he's staring at?” Zoe nodded. “Good. I'm going to find Kaylee and Simon. It's about time to scooch up to some eats, anyway, so meet us in the family room in five.”

 

The family room. That's what he had started to call the mess. For all his independence, the loss of Wash and everything else that had happened on Miranda had brought Mal around to the idea that they were more than a crew. He had started using the word 'family' and Jayne still taunted him about it, months later. But Zoe was pretty sure that was affected, and inside that puffed-up chest of his, Jayne's heart warmed a bit when he thought about the word. She remembered the Mudders, how despite his best efforts to be a selfish pig, he had been astonished by their admiration. It had changed the arrogant gunslinger, even though he wouldn't admit it out loud.

 

Unsurprisingly, when she dropped his ladder down to holler at him, he cursed her several times and shouted, “Zoe! Don't a woman know how to gorram knock when a man's busy?” She chuckled, told him to button up and get to the family room in three, and walked away without closing the hatch. As she did, she clearly heard something about “still calling it a ruttin' family room” before she turned the corner, out of earshot.

 

Suddenly, there was River, popping up out of nowhere in that sneaky way she had, stopping Zoe's heart and feet for a brief moment. Her quiet voice was almost a whisper, like she already knew that what she had to say was, perhaps, not welcome.

 

“You were staring at me earlier. I didn't see it but I could feel it. You were staring at me because I was sitting where Wash used to sit. But I couldn't hear you. Why were you staring?” Her blunt nature and the sideways tilt of her head made her curiosity clear, and Zoe knew that if she tried to push past the girl, it might not work.

 

“I was thinking of Wash. I was watching you fly. You fly like he did.”

 

“Like a leaf on the wind?”

 

In an instant, Zoe was upon her, hands tight around the small shoulders, shaking, her voice quietly desperate, “How did you know that? How did you know he said that?”

 

River looked like she might cry, frightened, which was an odd thing since she could have torn Zoe to pieces in mere seconds. But she looked terrified, and ashamed. “Because she told me. Serenity. I was sitting on the bridge and listening, she showed me, I heard him say it, I heard him whisper and then he just stopped talking and he wasn't saying anything anymore-” Her young mind still so far beyond her control, and here, now she was crying because she could probably feel all the hurt inside Zoe, as well.

 

The older woman inhaled, moved her hands from River's shoulders to her back, the bones so close to the skin, and drew her close. She made hushing noises to soothe the child, she swayed gently to and fro until her sobbing stopped, but maybe she was soothing herself, too.

 

And then, from another part of the ship, she heard Mal's voice, only half impatient, “ZOE! You'd better get yours and River's caboose down here, I said five minutes eight minutes ago!” And in an instant, River pulled away, wiping her cheeks with sharp, stuttering movements. Ducking her head, she gave Zoe a whispered “I'm sorry,” before running like a young antelope to the mess.

 

 _The family room_ , Zoe corrected herself.

 

.*.*.*

 

Later, after sketching out a plan and listening to everyone's silence when faced with the idea of returning to Haven, Zoe found herself walking once more to the bridge. She wasn't sure why, until she entered and found not River, but Mal sitting in the right-hand seat. Her stomach dropped a bit, the feeling of nerves settling themselves. She sat in the seat to the left, looking at the display. She fiddled with the readouts, making one or two unnecessary adjustments. Mal had it on autopilot, his feet before him on the dash, boots crossed, hands behind his head. Neither of them said anything for a couple of minutes. Feeling awkward, Zoe moved to leave, because she knew that whatever it was she came to find, it wasn't here right now. Then Mal opened his mouth.

 

“Albatross was silent at dinner.”

 

Zoe breathed a silent sigh. “Yes, sir. She was.”

 

“She, uh. Her face was red.”

 

“Yes, sir. It was.” For all his new focus on being a family, emotions still made Mal very uncomfortable. Which was probably why Inara had gone back to the Training House. Again.

 

“She, um. She looked . . . sad. Geez, all right, she was crying.” Zoe still offered no conversational assistance, so he rolled his eyes and continued. “Gorramit, Zoe, weren't you with her? What'd she go all crocodile face for?” He seemed genuinely distressed, which was unusual, since he would only deal with emotions when they involved Inara; otherwise, he simply sidestepped them completely or awkwardly handed them off to somebody else. Zoe didn't quite know what to do, because she was afraid of going crocodile face herself if she told him what had happened. But she was a warrior woman. She could talk about it without crying. Couldn't she?

 

“We bumped into each other in the corridor. We talked about flying. Wash came up. I might have scared her, sir. I'm sorry. I think she'll be all right.”

 

“You mind tellin' me exactly how you scared her?” Despite the situation, Zoe almost wanted to smile, to tease the captain for caring about River, how he was beginning to treat her like a daughter. She really was easy to love, a fact that had surprised Zoe to discover in these past several months.

 

“I . . . I had been watching her earlier, when we were on the bridge. She asked me why. I told her she flew like Wash, and she said . . .” Her voice broke.

 

Mal sucked in a breath. “What did she say, Zoe?”

 

“She asked me if she flew like a leaf on the wind.” The words rushed out, and Mal's eyes widened, clearly thinking exactly what Zoe had asked the girl herself. “She said that Serenity showed her. That she was on the bridge, listening to the ship, that she heard Wash, that she heard him say it before . . . before that beam blew through his chest.”

 

Mal let out a curse under his breath, blew air out from his lips. It would have been a whistle, if he could whistle at all.

 

“I shook her. I scared her. She started crying, I tried to comfort her. But the you called us to the mess and she ran. That was the end of it.”

 

“You sure? You think you might've scared her into some new part of crazy town?”

 

“I don't know, sir. She apologized to me. She went straight to the me- to the family room. She didn't hide . . . No. I think she'll be as fine as can be.”

 

Mal exhaled forcefully. “Good. I need that little one to fly my ship. Can't be having to fly the bird myself, what with keeping my eyes peeled for baddies and all.” He stood to leave, then turned on the top step. “Zoe, can I count on you in Haven? Will you be there? This ain't a tribute journey to your husband's grave.”

 

“We'll do the job, sir. Like always.”

 

Mal nodded, turned on his heel, and took a few steps away before turning back to the bridge, a rare look of embarrassment on his face. “I, uh. I'm supposed to be flying this thing. So River can get some sleep. So. Yeah. Dismissed. Er. Good night, Zoe.”

 

She rose to leave. “Good night, captain.”

 

 


	2. Mal

Zoe departed, leaving Mal to the bridge and his own devices. He sat unmoving for several minutes, stewing, fully occupied by the idea that Serenity was communicating with the little Albatross.

 

Serenity was his ship, of that he was sure. He'd been in the cockpits of enough birds to know when his presence was welcome, and when he was dead weight. Wherever he walked in her corridors, Serenity hummed for him, a touch of peace in a place that felt like home as no other spot in the 'verse did.

 

Kaylee's relationship with the ship had never bothered him – it made her repairs quick and clean, and mechanics had never been Mal's strong suit, anyway. He had come to understand that most machines spoke to Kaylee in some way or another. She had a habit of finding things that were intact, unbroken, and tweaking them to work better, faster. She said it was like she was giving the gadgets a break – that when she 'set them to rights' it felt like they sighed in relief or thanked her. Hearing her talk about that, Mal had spouted off a bit of sass about Kaylee keeping an eye on her own nuts and bolts, as they might be loose; but in his heart, he marveled at her. Simon got fancy and called her a savant. Mal just thought she had a gift.

 

But the idea of Serenity communicating with River with memories or visions . . . that was something new, and more than a mite strange. He had never much considered the bird's hum, he simply felt it in his bones. But did it go deeper for River? Was the ship alive in some way, was it responding to the girl's being a reader?

 

He watched her closely on the bridge, he could see it in her eyes, the alert but entirely gentle way she handled everything in that room, almost with reverence. She always knew where to go, what Serenity needed to fly straight and true, with grace and dignity. She was connected to the ship as a whole, like Kaylee's relationship with the engine, but different.

 

The more time he spent with River, the more she confused him. He found it odd that for all her telepathy whatnot, she never seemed to notice him on the bridge, how he watched. Might be because she was absorbed in flight. Maybe it was because she just didn't really expect much scrutiny from his quarter at all. Truly, he wasn't sure what to think of her anymore. From the first, he had regarded her as a child – beautiful and clearly smart, but seriously touched in the head and more a source of trouble than help. But he'd seen what she did on Miranda. How she slaughtered an entire battalion of Reavers with naught but her body, a blade and a pistol. How she had chosen to sacrifice herself to save not only her brother and the woman he loved, but Jayne, Zoe, and himself as well. He'd watched her after each cocktail Simon administered, each needle she took, how she became less erratic, found a place of calm, of focus. It had been an entirely different girl he'd sat next to on that first rainy flight together, a girl with purpose who might not actually be such a girl, now.

 

He cared for her, that he couldn’t deny. He'd stopped trying. He wanted her to be safe and to live as much of a life as she could. The Alliance had stolen half her youth and twisted her mind, and she endured. It was a thing to admire, and so he had. But something else had blossomed in those moments shared on the bridge, those times when her skill left him with nothing to do but drift off or watch her fly. It had been her hands. Her pale fingers twisted around the helm with the touch of a lover, a blissful peace mixed with heated anticipation of what the journey might bring, what she and Serenity could do together.

 

The first time he caught himself staring, it had been after some minutes, and a strange tingling had broken out in his fingertips; his face was warm. He had looked away, blinking several times to break the trance. He quickly left the bridge, only to wander to the loading dock. There, he thankfully found Jayne in over his head with rearranging the emergency supply compartment. Two hours of breaking his back with lifting and Jayne's talk of weaponry had driven River entirely from his mind.

 

But he couldn't avoid her. He wasn't ready to give the bridge over the girl entirely, and as such spent significant stretches of time with her, though now mostly in silence. He had taught her everything he knew about flying, which wasn't so much, truth be told. But she had taken his words and had figured Serenity out in less time than it had taken Wash. Her quick learning curve wasn't really too surprising, but now that Mal had the idea in his head of the ship talking to River, it made even more sense.

 

Problem was, he still wasn't sure how it sat with him, her natural touch with his bird. The thought that the ship might prefer her burned him in new ways; it was both a wistful, nigh on jealous ache in his mind, and a hot, harsh fire in his chest. Could it be pride? He really wasn't comfortable with the fact that his thoughts toward River had become confusing. That made it emotional blatherskite and he had no patience for that.

 

But he couldn't stop thinking about her. She was so strange, at the same time a young girl and a woman aged. She had knowledge inside her pretty head that a normal jerk wouldn't be able to process even if he had four or five lifetimes to do it. It made her quite the odd duck to be dealing with, in fact, because not only did he never really know whether he was dealing with the woman or the child, but now he might've started liking one more than t'other. He realized she was making a new kind of sense to him. Her nature was blunt, it was only when she lost herself that she acted out in confusion, screaming in fear or putting on high airs to escape a situation. Being honest, Mal made like the puffer fish, too, if he felt things going sideways.

 

He was pulled out of the reverie by the computer as it quietly beeped out an update on their coordinates: they were already halfway to Haven. His feet were numb from being propped up on the display, so he pulled his legs down with a grunt, and not a few choice words escaped his lips as he stamped them back to life before trying to stand from the pilot's chair. As the pins and needles faded, he thought he might walk to the family room for a snack, and maybe have a nip or two of that yellow liquor Inara had brought back from her last trip to Ariel.

 

He quickly closed off any more thoughts of the raven-haired Companion and occupied himself with worrying over whether Jayne had sniffed out his booze hidey-hole, limping on still-tingling feet to his compartment. If Jayne had rifled through his bunk again in search of a buzz, there would be a serious discussion about the man's monthly firearm budget.

**Author's Note:**

> This story started out as a one-shot, but refused to come to a conclusion. So it is now a work in progress. The muse has been very fickle with it thus far, so if you are intrigued by this first chapter, let me know. Feedback really does keep the creative blood flowing (which I'm sure you've heard, or said yourself, many times!) and will help me map it out.


End file.
